Clouds lined the sky that night, it would snow soon. Ada Wong knew it; she could smell the unmistakable scent of snow in the distance. Steam escaped her pouted lips as she breathed calmly, walking down the empty street, her heeled boots clicking along the pavement with each step. Her night off was going exceptionally well, a few drinks, an expensive dinner, and now she was on her way back to her penthouse apartment to rest.

However something lingered in the back of the Asian woman’s mind. Maybe it was paranoia settling in, ever since she arrived back from Spain, she felt as if she was being watched, followed. Every once in a while, she’d feel eyes at the back of her head, but every time she turned around, no one was there. The woman always stuck by her gut instinct, and that night was no different. Despite her usual comfortable attire of elegant dresses and uncomfortable looking heels, Wong decided, that since the weather was particularly cold, a pair of form fitting pants would do, with a crimson wool sweater, and on top of that, a trendy black leather jacket. She was fortunate that the jacket allowed her the option of bringing her gun with her… Just in case.

After rounding a corner, that feeling returned, and this time she knew there was someone there. She wasn’t going to take any chances, her form broke out into a dash, and she ran down the street, reaching into her coat and pulling out the weapon. Two blocks away was the building she lived in, two blocks and she would be safe. An intersection in the road, provided her with minimal breathing time as she scanned her immediate area once again, the sound of cars zooming by seemed to fade away as she concentrated, listening for the foot-steps of someone, or something that wasn’t civilian.

Ada Wong wasn’t a stupid woman; she knew from her first days with Umbrella, that operatives always had a distinct way of walking. Light steps meant barely any sound when stalking a target, but all she heard were the steps of civilian men and women walking the streets. It was a miracle none of them noticed her weapon… Maybe the neighbourhood was rougher than she first thought. Silver eyes glanced up to the tops of the smaller buildings, scanning them for movement; she was met with disappointment when the buildings turned up empty.

It must be paranoia.

In an alley way directly behind her, someone watched, deep in the shadows, fire-touched eyes glowing violently as they watched the woman search in vain for her stalker. Lightning fast reflexes moved her behind a large iron dumpster as the woman turned and stared down the dark alley, her arm raised, aiming the weapon in numerous directions. Ada knew, it was too close to be paranoia, the scent was too real, and it was right down that alley.

Silent, confident steps deeper into the darkness, though despite those confident steps, Ada felt nervous. For possibly the first time since Raccoon City, she felt nervous. The hammer of her weapon clicked as it was pulled back, her arm trained on the dumpster as she neared it, swallowing, feeling her heart start racing. She side-stepped, taking aim at… The wall. There was no one there, she frowned, looking left, and then right. Her weapon lowered and she breathed out a sigh of half-relief.

“Ada Wong.” Came a voice from behind the spy, Ada’s instincts kicked in and she thrust her leg in a backwards kick, only to have the limb caught a mere inch away from her assailant’s head. Those eyes, those glowing fire-touched eyes seemed to squint in a glare, and as Ada threw up her remaining leg, her hands moving towards the ground in an attempt to flip herself away from the figure, she felt a boot to her ribs just as her body started bending over, and she was sent hurtling through the air, crashing into the wall and cracking the bricks as she slumped to the ground. She gave a low whimper, clutching her rib-cage.

She could feel pain, and she certainly didn’t need a doctor to tell her two or three ribs were cracked and broken. She stood, panting, and as she looked up she saw the figure was already right in front of her. Her arm, still clutching the gun rose so quickly that she surprised herself, and fired.

The figure staggered backwards a few steps, falling to one knee. It was enough for Ada to know she had to leave, and despite broken bones, she ran as fast as her form could carry her. Wheezing mildly with each panted breath she took, confused, and pain coursing through her mid-section. The lights of the streets were a welcome refuge, no one attacked out in the open, especially an Umbrella Operative.


* * *

The figure stood after a short while, maybe five minutes. Calm breath escaped in the form of steam as the sound of metal hitting the ground echoed through the alley, the figure turned around towards the streets, once fire-touched eyes now a dangerous red. Calm, silent steps brought the figure closer and closer to the streets, revealing inch by inch its form and appearance. However this was short lived when the figure moved to the next alley way with a hint of urgency, the backstreets embedded within the hunter’s mind and every turn, every nook and cranny memorized.

* * *


Ada Wong, ex-operative of Umbrella Incorporate, and operative for HCF, panted as the elevator brought her to the penthouse level of the building. She could taste copper in her mouth, hot, sticky copper. Pressing her fingers lightly against her tongue, and examining the digits revealed that she was indeed bleeding. She gave a harsh cough, and more of her life’s blood splattered along her olive skin, one or two drops landing on the ground.

DING.

The doors slid open to reveal the same figure from the alley way, her arms crossed, glaring at the confirmed target. Ada panicked, her arm raised to fire again was met only with a sharp pain as her arm was twisted and pulled backwards, forcing her form to turn around, her front slammed against the inner wall of the elevator. A snap confirmed her wrist was now broken, and the gun fell to the ground. She yelled out, squirming and trying to break free of the impossibly strong hold the figure had on her.

She was met with blurred vision as she was sent out of the elevator and down the hallway, crashing into the wall and slumping to the ground. Again her head raised and her attacker was right before her eyes. This time with Ada’s own gun aimed at her. It was now that she had a proper look at her attacker.

A woman stood before her, a rough estimate that the woman was somewhere close to six feet in height, eyes that looked like flames, with a thinly slit pupil. Her hair was messed a little, possibly from the movements previously made; it looked blue, but could have been black. Her skin pale, her face was calm and collected, and that was what troubled her the most.

“W-who are you…” She managed, between strained breaths; the woman was silent, only for a few moments, as she thought on what to say. She considered not saying anything; it wasn’t her assignment to strike up a conversation with her target. It was her assignment to kill the woman.

“The last person you’ll ever see, traitor.”

A shot rang out, echoing in the silence of the penthouse floor, and the woman lowered Ada’s gun, dropping it on the ground. She didn’t need to worry about fingerprints; she had none. She watched the corpse of Ada Wong as it gave a few final twitches, a bullet hole leaking blood between her eyes. The woman’s lip twitched, forming the slightest of smirks, and she reached into her pocket, extracting a cellular phone.

Numbers were punched in, and after a few short seconds she was met with a man’s voice.

“Ada Wong has been eliminated.”

”Very good… The clean-up crew is already on its way. Return to HQ.”

“Yes sir.”

After the brief conversation was over, the woman placed the cell-phone back into her pocket and turned, glancing around. No one was around when she reached that level, and still the halls were silent and empty. Sensitive ears picked up the faint sound of a familiar engine roaring over the sound of the other vehicles. The clean-up crew was indeed on its way.